The Lover

The music playing in the background sails gently into my ears, calming my tired nerves, making me stretch and yawn lazily on the settee on which I lie.

I stare at the giant picture frame of my husband’s photograph hung on the wall. He donned his military attire, a big smile playing on his lips, his shoulders raised, carrying with an air of authority. Theodore, I murmur to myself and sigh. That name carries with it a heavy burden of sorrow.

Theodore died twelve years ago of cancer. “Breast cancer,” I remember the doctor say, a veil of pity on his face.

I laughed hysterically, causing the sympathetic look on the doctor’s face to transform to that of shock.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

I kept quiet, a shade of guilt on my face.

Breast cancer? Even Theodore’s illiterate mother said with a quizzical look in her eyes, “But my son has no breast.”

It was until our ten years old son asked about his father that the truth dawned on me. I nearly cried my eyes out, wishing it were all a dream. I and our son became so close that the phrase, “five and six”, was apt to use in describing us.

I remember Aisha, my best friend; the one who goes about with innumerable boyfriends. We were alone in the sitting room watching television, two glasses of fruit juice before us. when she tilted her head towards me and asked in a low voice,

“How do you find comfort at cold nights?”

I smiled coyly, shifting my gaze to her well-manicured nails.

“Tell me.”

“I… Manage.”

“How?” she pressed. “You know you can count on me.”

“Never mind,” I said.

She relaxed her head, a glass in her left hand, gave me a suspicious look and sipped from her drink.

I thanked God I stopped the conversation, for I knew where it could end if I allowed it go any further.

I hear footsteps behind me, I know who it is. Peter; my lover, his hands embrace my neck as he sniffs a generous amount of my hair spray, before heaving a satisfactory sigh. He moves his hands to my shoulders, massaging them tenderly causing a feeling of excitement in me at the forboding of the impending activity. His roving hands moves involuntarily to my breasts and cups them, his experienced fingers pinching my hard nipples. Then, in his familiar husky voice, he says,

“Let’s go to bed, mom.”

13 thoughts on “The Lover” by Uzoma Ihejirika (@literarymouthpiece)

  1. THE FUCK?!?!?!?!



  2. A 12years old boy and his mum? That is twisted…

    The tone of the tale is sad, one would want to sympathize with her, till they realize a 12yr old wouldn’t have known how to fcuk his mom….She taught him to….

    Nice delivery of a fucked up tale…Well done..

    @kaycee…See? A guy has painted a woman in a bad light…You happy yea?..hehehe…

  3. Another sad love song huh? perversion in it’s purity! The woman sounds fucked up or seriously jaded…@mouthpiece; you suggest she’s babbled with gay action here too? Poor child, an unsub in the making.

  4. @Seun-Odukoya, Thanks for reading and commenting. I sincerely appreciate. God bless.

  5. @sibbylwhyte, Yea, it’s pretty twisted, I agree. Thanks for commenting.

  6. @dottaraphels, Yea, another sad tale, poor child. About the gay action, no; I wasn’t suggesting any. Anyways, thanks for commenting, I’m pleased.

    1. Cool…when her friend asked how she managed , and said she could count on her; I just wondered.

  7. @literarymouthpiece, it looks as if there are two separate stories here. I’m not sure if this works for a flash piece; I would have left one or the other out.

    The story was well written.

  8. hehehe…okay I could never have guessed…

    Hmm his experienced hands ba? I wonder if he gained his experience on his mother?


  9. ‘Twas predictable to me. I’m more interested in the ‘Breast Cancer’ angle. Who had it, the woman? Cos men have no breasts.

    1. Can’t really explain it bt i am familiar wit d fact dat guys hv breast cancer too

  10. I have an issue with the past tense usage. It was not well done.
    Plus, the story was not convincing.

  11. Whattttttttttt!!!!!!seriously d dude is doing his mum?whao!!.Nice storyline,well written

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